To Catch A Fox
by Loyal Integra Fanboy
Summary: The forgotten soldiers of Hellsing, on that assignment in Ireland briefly mentioned in the anime. What happened to Mason Fox and his men? AnimeManga crossing over here.


_Apologies, readers, but this is not related in anyway to the story so far. Just slipped this in as another chapter because the New Story facility isn't functioning._

_Just a little bit of a story about the team lead by Mason Fox, a division of Hellsing soldiers briefly mentioned in the Anime. I apologise for Heinkel's accent by the way..._

**To Catch a Fox**

Mason Fox was a lean mean fighting machine. He headed up the most elite division of Hellsing's troops, and his scarred and weathered face displayed to all that he had been in the fiercest, most deadly battles with the impure undead, in over twenty years of service.

The Sergeant was revered by his loyal men, who trusted his every command, and bravely fought alongside him; he commanded respect from everyone around him. Level-headed and brave to the point that most thought he simply didn't have the capacity to fear anything, he spearheaded the 'cleansing' of over five hundred impure undead souls in the name of Her Majesty, The Protestant Church and The Knights of the Royal Protestant Order – The Hellsing Organisation.

Which was why Section XIII wanted him dead.

Wiping sweat off his brow – which was not from nervousness or fear, but from the determined concentration of a man who held the lives of twenty-five men in his very hands – Mason Fox crouched behind the wall, and cautiously peered over. Three freaks at the door, the other two maybe inside, not too far away. This would be a cinch. He signalled to the young soldier who carried the radio, who signalled to the men laying in wait in the deep forest behind.

They were about to storm a fine looking building which was once in its history a convent. But now it was the base for a whole darker purpose – one which Hellsing had been called upon to stop.

'Fox one, take position on the north-west wall.'

Silently, and as if materialising from thin air, ten soldiers in full camouflage scurried purposefully out from the trees, keeping to the shadows. They pressed their backs to the wall and their MP5s to their chests. Mason watched carefully, and once he was satisfied he nodded to his signalman, who duly responded.

'Fox two, move into secondary defensive position behind Fox one.'

Discreetly another ten men crawled from the darkness, and took up prone positions a few yards behind the first ten. Sergeant Mason Fox cocked his MP5, looked at his signalman, and gave a mirthless grin.

'Once more into the breech, and all that, eh?' he said flippantly.

'It's a living,' shrugged Corporal Fletcher.

'Ready?'

'Well, if I ain't ready now, Sarge,' said Fletcher, tugging on his helmet strap, 'I'll never be.'

'Spoken like a true soldier of Hellsing.', he grinned. 'Let's get this over with.'

'Yes, Sarge.' Fletcher spoke into the radio: 'Fox one, advance on objective in three…'

The men on the wall straightened up.

'…Two…'

They all cocked their rifles.

'…One!'

Ten fearless soldiers of Hellsing scrambled over the eight foot high wall, and advanced on the three freaks outside the door.

The ten behind immediately took up positions behind the wall in place of them.

The soldiers fired aimed shots at the freaks before they had time to react. But the bullets passed harmlessly through the heads of the creatures, who promptly vanished as if someone had flicked a switch and erased them from existence.

'What the...?' said the front man. Instinctively, as they had all been trained, they split into two and took up ready positions on either side of the heavy wooden door of the large, grey mansion. The group leader, Corporal Warner, radioed back to Mason, who had been taken aback in disbelief at what he had just seen happened.

'Grey Fox, this is Fox one – did you just see what happened there?'

'It must be some kind of diversionary magic,' Mason surmised, 'proceed with objective.'

'Yes, Sarge.' With a jerk of his head, Warner prompted the men to shoot the lock away from the door and bust in. No need for stealth now. Their target knew they were there. Time to end this with a bang. The door gave in and the ten men of Fox one sprawled inside. In hindsight, one could probably calculate that the average lifespan of each of those men, from the moment they stepped into the grand hall, was about 1.38 seconds. This is conjectural, as it is believed that some of the men may actually have still been alive for a few seconds as they fell to pieces like slices of ham-off-the-bone.

'Oh, fuckitt!' yelled Mason, who signalled to Fox two to advance, go in shooting and toss a grenade in there for good measure.

They did, and despite this, they too met pretty much the same sticky demise, though some of them may have been killed by good old-fashioned nine-mil bullets. But in the smoke and noise, and the fact it took about five seconds for it to all be over, it was hard to tell. Needless to say it had reduced Mason Fox's division of troops by a considerable number. Fox got up, grabbed his radio-man by the scruff, and hauled ass into the woods. It would be temporary retreat – he still had tricks up his sleeve. The four men high in the trees, of course. Equipped with RPGs and there to provide some much needed artillery support, these guys would simply have to blast the damn place to smithereens, then pick through the rubble for the charred remains of freak-chip vampires at their leisure.

Okay, so it wasn't the most subtle of plans, but things were getting a little desperate here. Only problem was – they were not responding to him on the radio. Nothing but static.

'Sarge – what the fuck is going on here?' said Fletcher.

'Shut up and watch your bloody back, you nit-wit!'

There was a rustling in the trees behind. No, not a rustle, Fox thought to himself as he listened closely, more like the sound of someone hauling a sack of meat through the undergrowth. Then what he heard next made him spin round, and cause Fletcher to drop his MP5.

A low, breathy moan. Like a drunk man in the throes of some inebriated dream; sad, confused.

Then he saw four men in the undergrowth, barely visible in their full camouflage gear. But the moon light glinted clearly off what was stuck in them. Shiny, silvery bayonets.

'Oh, nuts,' groaned Mason, as he realised there would be no artillery support this night. Or any other night for this matter. He turned on the Corporal who had dropped his gun, and opened his mouth to bark an order to him. He closed it again quickly when he realised that no order he could give would ever be carried out. Unless there was a soldier out there who could carry out his duties with his head several feet away from his crumpled body.

Alone, and certainly outnumbered, Mason Fox did the dumbest and most courageous thing he ever did. He ran, guns blazing into the manor. Unhindered, he charged up the stairs, yelling: 'Come get me then, you fucking bastards!' he crashed through a door into a small room, in the corner of which was a small figure, huddled up like a hedgehog moments before its final showdown with Mr Ford Focus. The quivering female form that he saw before him surprised him a little – this place hadn't been a convent for over a decade. But, sure as the moon was bright, this was indeed a young, petrified nun, who now looked at him with wide, teary eyes. He sank down to the floor, and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

'It's okay, sister,' he whispered to her, 'you're safe now.'

'They're inside…' the nun stammered, 'they… they killed everyone… and now they'll kill us!'

'I won't let them,' Mason Fox said sternly, 'I promise you that I'll get you out of here, safe and alive.'

He was suddenly aware of someone stepping into the room. He wheeled round and pointed his gun at a tall, trench-coated figure, barely distinguishable in the shadows. But the figure spoke in a this German accent.

'Vat haff ve here? I haff caught myself a fox, nein?' Heinkel Wolfe leered triumphantly at Mason Fox.

'Iscariot! Dammit!' Fox cursed. 'This was all a trap.'

'Clever Fox.' Heinkel threw her head back and laughed coldly. 'But ve vere smarter zan you!'

Mason Fox growled angrily and pulled the trigger. In the excitement he'd forgotten that it was empty.

Click.

Heinkel flinched a little, though she already knew he was empty. She smiled a mirthless smile, turned away, and walked out of the room.

'Gut nacht, Yumiko…' she said as she walked away, '…Guten morgen, Yumie!'

Fox looked around at the helpless nun in the corner. But this time she didn't look helpless at all. She stood right in front of his very eyes, and he could have sworn she was a different girl to the one he had discovered earlier. The sword she swung at him gave it away that she was definitely not a genuine nun.

But he only had a few seconds left to worry about that. After that, there was nothing at all.


End file.
